Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
T he lights of downtown Vancouver glimmered through the rain. Ainsley stared out from the living area, wondering just which apartment building was Zac’s. Which probably wasn’t healthy. Probably wasn’t wise.
After their last two “dates” she’d come to a healthy appreciation of the man. Maybe a slightly unhealthy appreciation, even. In all her experience of men, she didn’t know too many who had gotten under her armor like that, their kindness tugging at her heart until she spilled as she had. But she needed to keep him at an emotional distance. She couldn’t let him get too close. Even if the thought that he cared enough to check in on her warmed her heart.
Ugh. She should never have broken down and shared real truths last night. Should never have given him ammunition like that. Now he knew things about her that nobody else did. And she wasn’t okay with that.
She also shouldn’t have watched his game tonight. Nor the press conference after. That moment, when he asked if he played so intensely for someone special? Her heart had wavered when he’d said no. And sure, the fact that they were still playing this game “are they, aren’t they?” meant she didn’t exactly want him to flat-out confirm nor deny, but something about the decisiveness of his “no” hurt her heart.
Which was ridiculous. And dumb to the power of ten. Especially when she’d been the one to lay out the ground rules of their fictitious relationship. But sometimes fiction had a way of walking awfully close to feeling real.
Her phone buzzed. Mack. She could leave it. It was already way too late.
Louie walked past, tail in the air. “Hey, sweet pea.” She held out her hand.
He nudged her hand, demanding that she pick him up. So she did, holding his body close, as she might a child.
Her eyes closed against the reflection, the sad image of her holding a cat in her arms when she’d much rather hold a child. Her own. One day. Then the ridiculousness of what she was doing with Zac hit her afresh. How was she going to find her real Mr. Right when her fake boyfriend was there? This subterfuge was not doing her eggs any good. The sooner she could prove herself relationship-steady the sooner she could end things with Zac and find the man she was supposed to be with. The father of her potential children. One day.
She snuggled Louie a little longer until he protested and leaped from her arms. Her phone buzzed again. She glanced at the screen. Mack.
“Fine.” She huffed, then tapped Answer. “What is it?”
“I thought you’d like to know straightaway.”
Her heart hitched. There was only one thing she could think of that could lead to him making such a statement this late at night. “Are you serious?”
“Yep. Came online just ten minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t I get a notification?”
“I don’t know, but now you do. So you’re gonna do it?”
“Of course.”
He exhaled. “Okay. I’ll let you do the deed.”
“Thanks Mack.” She was so glad to have answered his call.
Five minutes later, she was speaking to Stirling Ames, her lawyer, and finally enacting the plan she’d had since she started earning enough to make this happen. Finally, a chance to put things right. To let God redeem the darkest chapter of her family’s life.
“Now you’re sure about this, Ainsley?”
“Positive.”
“And if the price point moves higher?”
“We’ve discussed this before. You know what I can afford, so do what you can to keep it low, but remember I want it.” More than anything. Please God .
“Consider it done. I’ll be in touch when we know.”
“Thanks, Stirling.”
The call ended, and she snatched up Louie again, wishing she had somebody to share this with. Her mom and Aunty Win couldn’t know until it was all settled, so she couldn’t speak to them, even if it wasn’t already so late at night. Mack had Emmett, while she had… a cat. When what she’d really like was a hug from someone like—
No. She wasn’t going to think about him. She’d made the rules. She’d made it clear. She couldn’t go changing things now. Even if he was only a couple of blocks away, and could probably come around, seeing he’d just finished his game, so he’d likely still be awake. He might’ve acted like her friend yesterday, but she didn’t want to make demands on him, didn’t want to deepen this connection to where it made things harder at the end. This relationship was fake, remember?
She just needed to get her heart and mind under control. And focus on things that were real. Like this miracle that she’d been praying about for years.
“Lord, thank You that it’s finally come on to the market. Open the doors. Use this for Your purposes, have Your way. Amen.”
She leaned her forehead on the window. Stilled her heart. Prayed for peace. Then, when her heart still felt edged with anxiety, prayed for others. Praying for others instead of worrying about herself had long been a useful remedy to dealing with her fears.
So she prayed for Mack. Prayed for her mom and Aunty Win that they would have the grace to understand. Prayed for her friends: Lincoln and Jackie, Cassie and Harrison, for Brenda, and others that she knew. That God would bless them, keep them safe, keep them healthy, grant them the desire of their hearts.
She smiled. God seemed to be granting her one of her deepest desires with that phone call tonight. Thank You Lord, thank You Lord, thank You Lord.
Her phone buzzed. Oops, had Mack wanted her to reply? She glanced at it. Her heart skipped at the name.
Hey Ainsley, just checking in that you’re still doing okay. Hope you have a good sleep tonight.
Zac. Oh Zac. Lord, bless him too. And help me keep this from getting too real.
* * *
There was nothing quite like a road trip to get a man refocused on what was real. What was real: winning against Winnipeg. Luc Blanchard might have tried, but he’d failed, and even his chirps about Zac being distracted by Ainsley hadn’t rocked his focus.
What was real? Spending time with Chris, focusing more on the Bible verses that had been shared this week in the online Bible study group. Others might like to play poker on the plane, but he listened to the Bible on his headphones, pausing every so often to think through what was said. He had to fill his mind with what was good and true and right. That way he wouldn’t think on the woman who was also those things, who had only replied to his message with a thumbs-up sign.
He hadn’t known how to deal with that. She hardly seemed the sort to let an emoji do the communication for her.
He joined the others walking from Winnipeg’s visiting team’s dressing room, unsurprised to see Chris talking with Luc.
Luc spotted him, grinned despite the loss. “Well, look what the heart has drawn.”
Zac eyed him. “Sorry, but I’m not sorry for your loss.”
Chris laughed as Luc scowled. “Neither am I.”
Luc pointed at Zac. “You better treat her right. I’ve been told that Ainsley Beckett is a national treasure.”
“For sure,” Chris agreed.
“Who told you that?” Zac asked.
“My mom. Bailey.” Luc’s dancer girlfriend. “And Poppy, Bailey’s friend. Who is Franklin’s sister, by the way, so you better watch yourself the next time you’re playing against Calgary.”
“Hey, I’m being Ainsley’s friend. Or trying to be. That’s all.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. You can tell them and anyone else who cares to know that there’s nothing to worry about, okay?”
“Okay.”
Nothing to worry about, because apart from that hug while biking, there was zero to see. Which was maybe what Chris and Diana had tried to warn him about. That a fake relationship was a dangerous game to play, that it could lead to emotions being stirred up that would best be left boxed until it could be real.
“Are you okay?” Luc asked more softly.
“I’m fine.” Oh, look, he was turning into an actor after all. Zac pointed to the tunnel. “Sorry man, the bus is about to go, and I can’t wait to play Mitchell Reilly tomorrow night.”
“I bet you can’t.”
Zac nodded and joined the tail end of the queue waiting to board the team bus. Chris joined him, punched him lightly on the shoulder. “That is not the face of fine, my friend.”
Zac faked a yawn. Yep, this faking business was getting out of hand. “It’s the only face I’ve got right now.”
Chris eyed him, then comprehension seemed to dawn across his face. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
No guesses for whom he meant.
“You know, I’m guessing you’re struggling here, so how about you just give it to God and ask Him to take your feelings away?”
But he wasn’t sure if he wanted his feelings taken away. At least until he could be sure that nothing could come of this.
The next day when he woke and checked his phone there was still no word from her. No reply. Nothing on her socials, either. They’d followed each other, but hadn’t posted a picture to say they were Instagram official or anything yet, which kept wrecking him as he wondered what this meant. He might know they were faking things, but this to and fro was leaving him frazzled, antsy, edgy.
He returned from breakfast to see a missed call from his mom. They didn’t talk too often, so he returned her call.
“Zac, you finally called!”
Only ten minutes after she’d called but whatever. “Hey Ma. How are you?”
“Is it true that you’re dating Ainsley Beckett?”
The reason for this phone call suddenly made a lot more sense. “We’ve seen each other a few times,” he said cautiously. His mom might love him but she also had a big mouth, and some of his past girlfriends had learned the hard way what his mom thought of them when she posted her thoughts on Facebook and showed them in an unflattering light. He couldn’t let her do that to Ainsley.
“Mom, it’s pretty new, so I don’t want you to make a big deal. I really like her,” that was definitely true, “and I don’t want to do anything that will mess this up.”
“I like her too. She’s my favorite actress on those Hallmark movies. So you better treat her right, understand?”
How many times would he have to reassure others? And why was everyone assuming he was automatically the bad guy?
“Mom, I need you to back off. I don’t want to do anything to mess this up. And I don’t want my family to do anything that will make her back off. So please, don’t say anything on social media.”
“But I have to say something. She’s Ainsley Beckett, for goodness’ sake, and you’re my son.”
And this news was likely the high point of her year, even more than her son bringing home a Stanley Cup. What was it that Ainsley had said? That’s right. “Mom, if you have to say something, just say that we’re friends. Then you can post pictures if you like.”
“So are you going out with her?”
“Occasionally. When we can. But she’s pretty busy, and so am I. I’ve got this road trip, then she’s away on an island, filming some mystery show.”
“Can I share that?”
Darn. He knew that his mom took anything he said as an invitation to post online. “I don’t think Ainsley would like you to do that. I can find out if you want though.”
“I’d love you to do that. Tell her I said hi. And that I’d love to meet her one day.”
“One day.” When Hades froze over. He couldn’t begin to imagine the horror of his mom meeting Ainsley and then seeing pictures about her for the rest of his life, especially if this didn’t work out.
“Okay, well, I am going to hold you to that.”
He had no doubt.
“Now, make sure you give that big Mitch Reilly a whupping tonight, you hear?”
“Yes, Ma.” He rolled his eyes and smiled.
“Love you, Zac.”
“Love you too, Ma. Say hi to Dad for me.”
“Will do.”
He ended the call, and lay on his bed, grateful that on this road trip, he had a room to himself.
Chris’s words wafted through his mind. He could give up on Ainsley, ask God to take away his feelings once, and for all. Or he could keep battling and trying to wrestle them down. And because he’d never consider himself a quitter, he decided to keep battling a little longer.
He got out his phone. Tapped out a message then deleted it. If he called, she might just pick up, which would be awesome. Even though he doubted she would, because contacting her like this felt like pushing the boundaries with what they’d discussed about things. They’d contact when something needed to be said. Which, in some ways, this probably did. He’d go with that anyway.
Her phone rang, and his heart thudded, waiting for her to pick up. Then dropped when her voicemail greeting clicked on.
He cleared his throat. “Hey Ainsley, I’m checking in from Saint Paul in Minnesota. Just touching base because I spoke to my mom today, and she wants to know if she’s allowed to say anything about the fact that you are shooting your Christmas mysteries show on the island. I spoke too soon, so sorry about that. She gets excited and posts all sorts of things, and yeah.”
And yeah, he rambled too much when a woman got in his brain. He winced. “Okay, let me know. And don’t worry, I won’t bother you again. Okay, this is Zac, your fake boyfriend, by the way.” He ended the call, threw the phone on the bed, where it bounced once, twice, then landed on the carpeted floor.
He groaned and swooped it up, then grabbed his bag and hustled out the door.
A to-go coffee later, he boarded the bus to the Xcel Energy Center, suit on like the others as they prepared for tonight’s game.
The Wild weren’t a team they faced too often, three times this season, according to the schedule. They played in the Central Division, while Vancouver was part of the Pacific. Minny were currently third in their division, while Vancouver was coming first. But Mitch Reilly was having an excellent season, leading their scorers, despite being one of their bruisers. He was a big body, someone Chris didn’t like to play against as the man wasn’t shy about pushing his way into getting dirty goals.
Reilly wasn’t dirty, per se, but he was fierce. And while Zac always respected a player with an intensity similar to his own, there was an edge to Reilly’s game he didn’t trust. Reilly’s checking wasn’t Logan-bad, but on the same wavelength.
Like most arenas they travelled to there were fans waiting, which meant signing autographs and taking a few pictures. A couple of blondes wanted a photo.
“Hey girls, leave the man alone. Didn’t you know he’s taken?” Drew winked at him.
He nodded his appreciation, even as the women complained. “So it is true?”
He paused. “What?”
“You and Ainsley Beckett?”
“Yep.” His heart lifted as their faces fell.
Him and Ainsley.
He mightn’t like a lot of things about this arrangement, and he might struggle with tamping down his feelings, but their arrangement had helped in tamping down the interest flung at him by other women.
“Here!”
He skated to the neutral zone, letting his feet do the talking, as he kept the puck on his stick. A tap to Drew, who skated then shot at the Wild’s goal. It rebounded off the pipes, and Zac scooped it up, wristed it to the top right over his shoulder.
Goal!
The light flashed, the horn blare was short, the crowd’s response muted to say the least. Playing away was good in some regards, but he missed the crowd’s support when they scored. He skated down the line and tapped his teammates’ gloves then took his place on the bench. Vancouver were up two to one, Logan having scored their other goal, Reilly the Wild’s one.
He sucked down an energy drink and focused on the game, ignoring the jawing of Reilly on the other side of the glass.
“That dude has attitude,” Drew said.
“He’s playing feisty tonight.”
Mitch had already had a shoving match with Drew and two minutes for a cross-check on a Vancouver defenseman.
The third line was tiring, so it was time for Zac’s first to return. There were three minutes left in this final period, so each line would get a solid shift before the siren blared for the end of play.
Zac jumped over the boards and got into position, taking the draw and sending the puck to Drew. He moved to the corner when a hard thump hit his back.
He went down on one knee, a whistle blew, and he forced himself upright. Stay down, and he’d be accused of being soft, wrangling the sympathy card from the ref. Get up too fast, though, and it could mean he wouldn’t draw the penalty that was deserved.
The roar from the crowd drew attention to a scuffle in the corner. Mitch and—Logan? For real?
“Parotti, you good?” One of the zebras checked on him.
He stretched his back. He wore padding, but there’d be a bruise tomorrow. “I’m okay.”
The ref nodded and skated away.
Zac stretched some more, waving off the team medic who looked like he wanted to come out on the ice. He waited next to Drew, watching the fight. He rarely fought—he’d rather use his skills than his fists—but some people had built their career on that reputation.
Fights might not be as prevalent as they were a few decades ago, and some might call this league’s administration soft because they tended to intervene more. As a player who often had a target on his back, he appreciated the fact that the men in black and white did what they could to stop players getting concussions and having their careers cut short because of somebody’s inability to keep their temper.
He joined the others in tapping his stick on the ice as the two men were finally dragged apart. He nodded to Logan, appreciating his support. Logan wiped away blood from his mouth as he headed to the penalty box. A fight like that earned both men five minutes in the penalty box. And while he was heartily pleased to see the refs had dealt with fights, he’d been surprised to learn it was because Logan was standing up for Zac for once. Logan was a walking contradiction.
The last minutes saw Minnesota pull their goalie to allow for an extra attacker, which meant a ramped-up intensity as Vancouver tried to stop them getting a draw. A draw at the end of the third period would mean going to overtime, which wouldn’t happen on his watch, not with three more games on this road trip ahead of them. Finishing now would be good.
The game ended with no change to the score, and the rest of the team traipsed back down the tunnel to their dressing room, while Zac was asked to wait. Then he skated on, having been awarded the announcer’s second star tonight. As expected, he met with some boos. But also some fans. He smiled, pointing to a couple of youngsters who looked to be siblings, judging from their similar shape and hair.
“Want this?”
They nodded, and he carefully boosted his stick over the glass. Only to see a middle-aged man snatch it.
“Hey!” He pointed to the kids, while the fans around the man protested.
The man tried to hurry up the stairs. The kids looked sad.
“Hey!” He banged on the glass. No way was some random dude making off with what belonged to those kids. Guys like that would probably try to sell his stick on eBay, whereas a kid would often grow up holding onto a game memento like it was a treasure. Things like this might seem trivial, but were one of the ways they could instill a love of hockey in the younger generation, so no way was some selfish tool going to spoil the night for these kids.
He pointed to a security guard, and by now the whole arena seemed aware, and the guy was blocked by several Wild fans who forced him to return. Zac flinty-eyed him, then pointed to the kids, and the man sheepishly handed it to the shorter one.
Zac nodded, and pointed to the kids and smiled. Then pointed to the crowd and applauded them, which earned him a bigger cheer than when he’d skated on for the second star. But that was what hockey was about. It was bigger than one person, and in this hockey-loving state, it was important to recognize the crowds who were as passionate about the game as he was.
“Classy act, Parotti,” a fan called.
He skated off, catching a few other commendations. He nodded, offering a little smile, but nothing that might get perceived as smug. He’d never wanted to come across as arrogant, even though he knew some thought he was. But awards and words tossed at him like “elite” tended to create that impression.
He finally joined the others, and moved to the corner to Logan’s stall. “Thanks.” He held out a fist to Logan.
Logan tapped it, then dropped his gaze, and Zac returned to his stall. He stripped off his jersey, threw it in the basket to get laundered for the game in two nights. He shrugged from his shoulder pads, wincing as a muscle tightened.
“You okay, Zac?”
He had to be honest, even if a twinge made him seem soft. “Just a pinch in my lower left trapezius.”
The trainer shifted behind him and pressed on the sore point.
Zac winced. “That’s the spot.”
“We’ll ice and massage it. We can’t afford our star player to get injured, especially this early in the season.”
He finished changing then joined the trainer in the room claimed for medical staff. Different arenas had different setups for treatment rooms, and most visiting teams had to make do with what they could find. Vancouver had an excellent medical staff, though, and he knew he was in good hands, even though a massage might not have felt like it.
“You need to heat pack it and take care not to strain it. No lifting, okay? Not even a bag.”
He shook his head, but even in that action, he felt the pinch of pain again. No. This wasn’t supposed to be that bad.
“Zac? Is it hurting still?”
“I’ll rest it, I’ll be careful.”
“You better be. And I want to see you first thing tomorrow morning.”
“You got it.”
He returned to the room to see most of the others had now left and were heading to the bus. They’d fly tonight to St. Louis, get in late, but at least they could sleep in. Then they’d have a late training session, before a night off, then they’d play the following night.
And with a smidge more downtime, maybe there would be time to connect with Ainsley again.